


Plead

by bigblueboxat221b



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, Christmas Party, Fandom Trumps Hate, M/M, POV Greg, Sex Challenge, Teasing, Touching, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-04 21:05:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14601696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/bigblueboxat221b
Summary: “What the fuck are you doing, Lestrade?” Greg muttered to himself.It had seemed like a good idea, standing a bit drunk and a bit lonely and quite horny at a Christmas party. Now, stone cold sober, standing in Mycroft’s powder room with carte blanche to use a box of toys as he tried to make Mycroft Holmes beg, things were a little more daunting. The idea was arousing, of course, but the reality…





	Plead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lmirandas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lmirandas/gifts).



> Completed for lmirandas, who purchased it for FTH 2018. Thank you! <3

There was definitely more mistletoe than earlier, Greg thought to himself. He blinked hard, frowning as he scanned the doorways of Sherlock and John’s flat. Yes, when he’d entered there had been one sprig above the door – Mrs. Hudson had kissed him as she took his coat – and one on the fireplace. Now they were hanging from just about every conceivable fixture, including the bison horns. Given how comfortable he was slouching on the sofa, it didn’t really make any difference to Greg. He was three pints into quite a good Christmas party, and there was no need to get up.

Tipping his glass upwards, Greg amended that last statement. There was one good reason – his lack of beer – but right now the comfort won out over the lack of beer. Shrugging, he laid the empty glass on the table beside him and went back to people watching. He’d been in a conversation with Sally and her new boyfriend for a while – it didn’t take superior deductive powers to know it was John’s choice to invite her – but they’d drifted into talking about mutual friends Greg didn’t know, and his attention has wandered.

He knew most of the people here and there were more than enough to fill the flat. Everyone seemed to be sticking to their little groups – Yarders, John’s friends, a group he suspected were actually informants of Sherlock’s. Mrs Hudson must have reneged on her ‘Not your housekeeper’ mantra for the evening and was passing drinks and food.

And there was Mycroft.

Standing alone by the tree, Greg might have dismissed him as too proud, a sour look on his face as he surveyed the crowd. He took an extra couple of seconds tonight, studying the shifting weight, the ever moving gaze, the repeated re-gripping of a wineglass.

Nervous, Greg thought to himself, a little surprised. Uncomfortable, at least. But not proud, superior, above it all.

Interesting, he thought, a whisper of possibility curling up his spine like smoke. He allowed his gaze to drift away again, though it now came back to the dark grey suit in the corner more often than not. There was potential there, and his brain wouldn’t let go of the idea.

When his bladder finally tipped the standing/sitting balance in favour of rising from the sofa, Greg toted his glass to the kitchen on the way to the loo. When he returned the group of Sherlock’s friends had left, emptying the room considerably, and Sally and her boyfriend (David? Darren?) were thanking John for the invitation. Greg raised a hand to Sally as they left. He hesitated before his feet could take him automatically back to the sofa. Now that Sally was gone, it was a decidedly empty corner.

On impulse, he stepped instead over to Mycroft.

“I could see you holding back,” Greg found himself saying. The beer had dropped his usual filter just enough. He watched Mycroft turn, his eyebrow lifting as he realised Greg was addressing him. “From the conversation Sally was having,” Greg explained, unable to keep his mouth from twitching as he added, “oven chips versus fryer.”

The look on Mycroft’s face was priceless, and Greg couldn’t help chuckle at it.

“It was difficult,” Mycroft replied finally, “however, my self-control is substantial.”

Greg raised his eyebrows at the suggestive comment. “Really,” he replied.

To his astonishment, Mycroft leaned a little closer, dropping his voice out of the range of Sherlock’s hearing. Greg glanced around to see that John and Sherlock were snogging quite heatedly under the mistletoe at the door. Zero chance of being overheard, then.

“To cut the inevitable verbal dance short, Detective Inspector, yes, I intended the double entendre you just noted. I am a little drunk, and a little sick of watching my brother’s happiness.” He pulled back, now gazing directly into Greg’s eyes. “I am quite attracted to you and would greatly appreciate knowing if the attraction is reciprocated.”

Greg, mind swirling with information – words, detail of Mycroft’s face, the waft of aftershave. He took a second to breathe before replying.

“It is.”

Sensing a possibility, Greg added, “At least I had the self-control not to blurt it out, however.” The challenging, teasing look he gave Mycroft was designed to prod a reaction.

“Please, Gregory,” Mycroft replied as though pained, “Do not compare my self-control to yours. You have no idea how long I have refrained from ‘blurting it out’, as you put it.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Greg replied, determined that he was not going to be distracted. “Tonight, in this exact scenario, I exhibited more self-control.”

Mycroft studied Greg for a long moment before saying, “I will concede the point.” Before Greg could crow about it, he added, “In order to make a broader statement, however, we will need more data.”

“Really.”

“Might I propose an experiment?”

“Sure,” Greg said. He could read between the lines as well as anyone. He knew when he was being propositioned, and he also knew how to skew the power balance. Without a glance at Sherlock – because he frankly didn’t care what the other man was doing – he stepped into Mycroft’s space until their toes touched, and whispered, “I bet I could shatter that iron control of yours, Mister Holmes.”

Mycroft made no sound, nor did he move. The slight rise of one eyebrow, a flicker of tongue against a lower lip…these were the only signs of acknowledgement.

To Greg, they were as clear as a bell.

Greg grinned and pulled away, allowing the self-satisfied smirk to linger. Gotcha, his eyes seem to say.

“I’m certain I could do the same, given the opportunity,” Mycroft said, but his assertion had lost the weight of authority.

“I’d like to see you try,” Greg scoffed completely unconvincingly.

“A car will come for you tomorrow evening at 8pm,” Mycroft said, his voice low and steady. “I suspect 24 hours will be sufficient for each of us to attempt to break the other?”

“Sounds right.” Greg said, not giving an inch as he added, “First to beg loses.”

“Agreed.”

“Merry Christmas, Mycroft,” Greg said, turning to leave. He stepped around Sherlock and John, who had moved on to christen the mistletoe under the kitchen door.

 

+++ 

_10.31am_

_I do hope you will be prepared for this evening, Gregory._

_10.41am_

_Mycroft?_

_10.42am_

_Indeed._

_10.44am_

_Is this a secure line?_

_10.46am_

_Of course._

_10.53am_

_Well in that case, I wouldn’t count your chickens, gorgeous._

_I have a wealth of experience in self-control._

_And I plan to take you apart._

_Expertly._

_Slowly._

_Until you’re begging me._

_11.09am_

_Really._

_Well as my guest, I insist you make the first attempt._

_11.11am_

_Love to._

_11.19am_

_I will see you tonight and we will see just how useful that experience is, Gregory._

_I have a range of toys you may use to aid your endeavour._

_11.29am_

_How kind._

_11.33am_

_I have a clean medical certificate should you prefer not to use condoms._

_11.43am_

_Noted._

_I’m clean too._

_I half expected you to know that already._

_11.46am_

_You seem a little distracted, Gregory._

_Shall we discuss your toy preferences and safe word tomorrow?_

_11.47am_

_I believe the correct response is ‘indeed’._

_11.49am_

_Indeed._

 

+++

The car was one thing, but this house was ridiculous, Greg thought to himself, waiting for the highly polished front door to open. The driver hadn’t spoken a word other than checking he was actually Greg Lestrade, a fact Greg was prepared to deny when a wave of nerves came over him. The silent trip across a cold, dark London was hardly arousing; memories of their text conversation this morning certainly countered that. Greg had spent a good part of this afternoon trying to distract his mind before finally giving in to his body’s demands. Hopefully it would stop him making a fool of himself.

Mycroft met him at the front door, dismissing the driver and leading Greg into a comfortable sitting room. Greg shed his coat, gloves and scarf at Mycroft’s invitation, dropping them on top of the overnight bag he’d packed. Based on their conversation last night, Greg wasn’t sure how long he’d be here. As Mycroft offered him a drink Greg let his eyes wander around the room. Hard floors, cushioned sofa, a pair of wingback armchairs, a wall of books. A black box on the floor by the sofa and a pile of towels were the only incongruous items. Knowing why they were there, Greg felt his heart kick up a gear.

He turned his attention to his host instead. Mycroft was dressed more formally than Greg – when was he not – but the lack of jacket and rolled up sleeves were still more relaxed than Greg remembered seeing him. His own jeans and open necked shirt, which had seemed like a good choice at home, now felt far too relaxed. Just as Greg started to wonder what he should have worn, Mycroft’s voice broke into his thoughts.

“A few details before we commence, if you will.”

Mycroft passed Greg the water he’d requested as he spoke.

“Of course,” Greg replied. He saw Mycroft visibly relax. Greg would have been more concerned if Mycroft had been ready to jump right in. This was not a situation on which he had a lot of experience to draw, and assumptions were not a great place to start.

“I believe we agreed to see which of us has the most…self-control.”

Greg nodded.

“I propose we…play,” Greg’s eyebrow rose at the term – exactly how experienced _was_ Mycroft?, “until the word ‘please’ is uttered.”

Greg nodded again.

“My safe word is cinnamon.” Mycroft said the words so casually that Greg had no hesitation in believing Mycroft was far more experienced than he had suspected. Alright, then.

“This box contains a range of items you may find useful. I consent to the use of any of them.”

Greg’s eyebrows rose once again. Despite the rules, Mycroft was handing a hell of a lot of trust over to someone he didn’t know all that well.

The expression on his face must have broadcast his thoughts because Mycroft smiled slightly. “I know your character far better than you might think, Gregory. I would trust you over many of the professionally trained men in my acquaintance.”

“Thanks,” Greg replied automatically.

“If I should safe word, I expect you will pause your timer,” Mycroft said.

“Of course,” Greg said. If Mycroft safe worded he’d drop the whole bloody bet, he thought. “We can stop whenever you want. I don’t actually want to push you past your limits.”

Mycroft looked at him for a long, silent beat. “And that’s the attitude that has earned my trust, Gregory,” he said quietly. Clearing his throat, he said, “There is a small bathroom through that door if you would like to take a moment before we begin.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Greg replied, heading for the door. He left his glass on the side table, closing the door behind him. The room was sleek and spotless, of course. Greg relieved himself, looking hard in the mirror as he washed his hands.

“What the fuck are you doing, Lestrade?” Greg muttered to himself. It had seemed like a good idea, standing a bit drunk and a bit lonely and quite horny at a Christmas party. Now, stone cold sober, standing in Mycroft’s powder room with carte blanche to use a box of toys as he tried to make Mycroft Holmes beg, things were a little more daunting. The idea was arousing, of course, but the reality…

Greg gripped the edges of the vanity, leaning forward to look himself in the eye.

“Get your arse out there. You’re good at this, he won’t know what’s hit him.” Greg coached himself. He took a deep breath, nodded once, and stood up straight. Confidence was key. If he had that, the rest would work fine.

Striding back into the room, Greg stopped a little too close to Mycroft. He studied the slight smirk for a second, noting the carefully shuttered eyes before speaking.

“Why don’t you take off your shoes and socks,” Greg purred, “while I investigate the contents of this box?”

Mycroft nodded and Greg turned away, swallowing hard where Mycroft couldn’t see. The box wasn’t heavy, and he sat it on the sofa to examine the contents. He was relieved to see nothing too hard core; he mainly preferred to use his own body to explore, especially with a new partner. Trust was one thing, but the touch of another body was far more intimate in his experience. Mycroft’s caution wasn’t a bad idea, though. Putting aside several bottles of lube, Greg found a couple of cock rings, feathers, various dildos, candles, ice blocks in a bucket, a small soft flogger, handcuffs (he smirked at that), and a blindfold. He picked up a bottle of plain lube, considering his options.

Thinking hard, Greg made a plan. When he turned back, Mycroft was standing in the same place, shoes and socks neatly to the side. Greg allowed his eyes to roam up and down Mycroft, noting the definite bulge in his trousers. Excellent beginning.

“Don’t think I’ll need to get fancy,” Greg said. “I’d rather know it was me you were begging.” A slight smirk crossed his lips. “Though this will come in handy.” He palmed something without letting Mycroft see, a slight flicker of Mycroft’s eyebrow the only reaction. Greg pressed it into his pocket to keep his hands free.

As he moved closer, the careful air of control rippled around Mycroft. Greg paused. He would need to knock Mycroft off balance if he even had a chance. It was likely Mycroft had deduced his usual methods; he needed to do something different.

Stepping even closer, Greg pulled his eyes away, fingers reaching for Mycroft’s belt. Without haste, he drew the belt out and stripped Mycroft’s trousers off without saying a word. No little touches, no murmured promises, and definitely no eye contact. Standing back, Greg considered this new method.

Different was kind of weird.

Too impersonal, Greg thought as he slipped buttons free and removed Mycroft’s waistcoat and shirt, draping them over the sofa. And it didn’t appear to be rattling Mycroft, who seemed completely at ease, looking calmly at Greg as though waiting for him to begin. Hesitantly, Greg removed the silicone cock ring he’d taken from the box and held it up, eyebrows raised in mute question.

Mycroft nodded, a single bob of his head.

The silence seemed to pulse as Greg prepared the cock ring.

It was odd, fitting the ring to Mycroft’s not-quite-flaccid cock without meeting his eye.

Detached.

Impersonal.

Cold.

With a rush, Greg changed his mind. Mycroft was used to impersonal, to people who averted their eyes. This was his comfort zone. He didn’t have to engage, to acknowledge the other person. If Greg was going to succeed in this, he would need to overwhelm him with sensation. No, not sensation.

Touch.

Connection.

Emotion.

Now that’s a plan, Greg thought. Flood him with what he doesn’t usually do. What he doesn’t usually get out of this. The idea made him a little sad, for some reason, but he pushed it away. Mycroft hadn’t set any limits, and Greg’s plan was psychologically sound. Plus there was the safe word, if Greg did inadvertently cross a line.

“I’m not going to be able to keep quiet, you know,” Greg murmured, trailing one finger along Mycroft’s stomach. He walked slowly behind Mycroft, allowing his finger to trail up and over the pale shoulder, eyes roving over the slim body in front of him.

“You make all the noise you like, too, gorgeous. I want to hear you, if there’s anything you like, or don’t like…” Greg continued. Mycroft’s black boxer briefs fit him well, long legs flowing down, down, down to the floor from his well-rounded arse. Greg brought his other hand up, tracing slow patterns across the expanse of pale skin before him.

“I want you to feel good,” Greg whispered, having to rise on his toes to bring his mouth close to Mycroft’s ear. There was no reaction he could see, though his hands were now gliding over Mycroft’s back. Not a sound, which wasn’t a surprise, but no indrawn breath or shiver, either. Greg bit his lip for a moment before continuing, his hands still slow as they caressed Mycroft’s back.

“Mmm, you have so many freckles,” Greg said. He shifted his hands, fingers pressing gently on freckles as he found them, charting the constellations across this milky backdrop. “I wouldn’t have picked it. You must have spent time in the sun as a child. They’re all different colours, did you know? Toffee and caramel and milk chocolate…I’ve just realised all the names I have are foods. Sweet, sticky foods. I wonder if they taste the same as they look?” Greg was murmuring nonsense now, though it was true; he pressed the flat of his tongue to Mycroft’s shoulder blade where a small cluster of toffee coloured freckles lay. His skin had the faintly salty tang of clean skin. “Mmmm, no toffee here,” Greg said, deliberately blowing his breath over the wet spot he’d left. “Still tastes good, though.”

Over the sound of the gently moving air, another sound of shifting air. Mycroft’s carefully controlled breath stuttered before righting itself.

Interesting, thought Greg. He continued to taste across Mycroft’s back, his ears attuned to the sound of breathing slowly losing its rhythm. It was slow, but Greg found himself settling into the rhythm. Hands still smoothing over skin, feeling the occasional flex and shudder through Mycroft’s muscles as Greg’s voice and lips learned Mycroft. He murmured words of praise and desire as he went, feeling the warmth flow through his own body.

“Oh, that was good,” he said when he’d worked his way around the turn of the opposite shoulder and could see Mycroft’s face again. His hands had not stopped, and he shifted to stand in front of Mycroft, hands resting on Mycroft’s shoulders, gently sweeping back and forth.

“Mmm, tempting to keep tasting these freckles,” Greg said, spying the scattering of light brown spots across Mycroft’s chest. “I’m going to go with something different, though.” Mycroft wasn’t looking at him, instead focusing on a point across the room. His face was set, but Greg could see the tension in his jaw. So he _was_ reacting to what was happening. Greg was completely happy to go slow if he knew he was making progress.

“Will you look at me?” Greg asked, waiting patiently until Mycroft’s eyes met his. He smiled, seeing the slight trepidation behind the solid exterior. “I’d much rather be able to see you,” Greg told him, his fingers tracing a slow path downwards until he felt Mycroft’s nipples under the heels of his hands. His eyes were still locked to Mycroft’s as he rubbed gently, tracing slow circles around the taught skin. Tiny muscles tightened in Mycroft’s face around his eyes and mouth; he had noticed, of course, but it barely flickered against his iron control.

“I wonder if you’ll be able to keep the same control when it’s my lip I’m dragging over here,” Greg asked him, deliberately pressing a little harder. “I love the feeling, something curled so tight it’s hard against my soft skin,” he went on, licking his lips slowly. “I’ll have to see if I get the same reaction from both sides.” He smiled a little as Mycroft’s eyelids fluttered, his breath rasping, the closest thing to a sound he’d made this whole time.

True to his word, Greg slowly lowered his head, tilting it so he could hold Mycroft’s gaze. He had an idea it was the intimacy affecting Mycroft – the connection to another person – and Greg didn’t want to lose it. He opened his mouth and dragged his inner lip over Mycroft’s nipple as slowly as he could, barely containing a groan as he did. He could see Mycroft’s mouth drop open a little, saw how much wider his pupils had dilated; definite progress. In a moment of inspiration Greg settled his whole mouth over Mycroft’s nipple and moaned loudly, the vibrations shuddering through his tongue where it laved at the firm skin.

Mycroft jerked slightly, his eyes widening at the sensation.

Greg grinned, repeating it on the other side, drinking in the strained gasp as his teeth brushed over the very tip of tightly furled tissue.

“Probably the left,” he said musingly, replacing his mouth with his hand once again. He considered Mycroft. They’d barely started, and he could see the changes, though they were subtle.

Time to ramp things up, he thought to himself.

“I’ve been patient,” Greg said lightly, hands now passing lower, across Mycroft’s stomach until his fingertips brushed the waistband of though tight black boxer briefs. The bulge was considerable, and Greg was careful to keep his fingers to the side, lest he brush the edge of the cock peeking over the top.

“I’ve been very patient,” Greg repeated, “but I just can’t wait to see what’s in here.” He allowed his fingers to press carefully under the fabric, grinning as he asked, “Do you think I’ll find any freckles in here?”

Mycroft didn’t answer, of course; his breathing was careful and slow again, the epitome of control despite his wide pupils. Greg dropped his eyes as he pulled the waistband out over Mycroft’s erection; he noticed Mycroft’s fists clench as his pants were lowered to the floor. Greg guided Mycroft to step out, which naturally left him on his knees on the hard floor.

For all his control over his breathing, Mycroft could not control his cock – that much was evident. It was erect and flushed, the head shiny and full already. Even as Greg looked at it, it twitched; given how swollen it was, Greg was impressed Mycroft was standing still and silent.

“Now that’s a gorgeous sight,” Greg murmured. He reached out with one gentle finger, brushing it through the wetness that had gathered right before his eyes. Another twitch. Without raising his eyes, Greg found the lube he’d stashed in his pocket. The snick was loud but certainly signalled Greg’s intentions to some extent.

“I have this serious urge to be inside you, you know,” Greg said almost conversationally as he spread lube over two of his fingers. “I don’t know what you normally do, but there’s something about being inside someone. It’s so personal. So intimate to know that part of someone, or have someone know you that way. I’m not so fussed either way, myself.” The lube was warm by now, and Greg used his clean hand to press gently on the inside of Mycroft’s knee, nudging his legs apart. He paused, looking up. “You could stretch me wide open, Mycroft. Now that would feel good for both of us.”

Mycroft’s cock bobbed right beside Greg’s face.

“But the idea of my mouth on you, and my fingers inside…” he groaned, louder than he normally would. The sound was genuine arousal, though – he wasn’t kidding, he’d been thinking about Mycroft in his mouth all day.

“Watch me, Mycroft,” Greg implored, waiting until his eyes met Mycroft’s. He leaned forward, watching Mycroft inhale deeply when his tongue touched the soft skin first. It was impossible to talk while he was doing this, but Greg was sure to make his pleasure as clear as possible. He groaned around his full mouth, fingers pressing back behind Mycroft’s balls; whimpered as he found Mycroft’s entrance and circled the soft skin. Greg ran his open mouth over Mycroft, every bit of skin he could reach, humming and moaning to himself as he did. Quiet words slipped out, sensory words as Greg explored…

“Mmm, so soft…taste good…gorgeous skin…so warm, so good Mycroft...”

Mycroft was not moving an inch, his fists solid, pressing into the sides of his thighs; Greg could feel his tense quads and the quivering of his glutes. It must be a nightmare, trying to relax himself for Greg’s fingers while obviously needing to clench everything else to maintain control. Greg was using all his skills to try and keep Mycroft on the edge; the point was to make him beg, after all.

His mouth occupied, Greg’s fingers pressed gently at Mycroft’s entrance, deliberately teasing, barely breaching him before withdrawing again. As much as he did want to reach inside Mycroft, see if he could find that bundle of nerves that would surely make him curse and groan…it wasn’t the point.

Mycroft’s breathing was heavy but measured, and Greg was wondering what to try next. For all his obvious arousal, Mycroft’s control was still strong enough to withstand Greg’s best efforts. He could feel the flutter of muscle clutching at his fingers as he teased Mycroft, but there was neither a movement nor an appreciable sound from Mycroft. Greg groaned around his mouthful, partly out of arousal, partly frustration. A spurt of bitterness on his tongue gave Greg pause to think. Mycroft had reacted every time Greg had talked about himself or shown his own need. Murmured words had been far more evocative than any touch. Perhaps…

Regretfully, he pulled off Mycroft, removing his hand and standing up straight, stretching his back out.

“I’ve been going about this all wrong, haven’t I gorgeous?” he chuckled, the sound short and breathless as he leaned in, holding Mycroft’s chin so he would meet Greg’s eyes.

“You can go all day with me touching you.”

With a knowing smirk to cover his pounding heart, Greg turned back to the box of toys Mycroft had provided, searching until he found what he was looking for. Slowly he withdrew what he’d noticed the first time but dismissed as a little too much when he didn’t know Mycroft’s limits.

A prostate stimulator.

A very big, very black prostate stimulator.

“I’m assuming this is on the table?” Greg asked, raising his eyebrows.

Mycroft nodded, his face impassive. He swallowed, though, and his cock twitched hard, pulsing around his cock ring. Greg’s followed suit, far less obvious in his trousers.

“Oh, no,” Greg said, as Mycroft instinctively shifted his feet a little further apart, “this is not for you. The only real reactions I’ve got out of you so far have been when I’m talking about me. How I react to you. My body. My pleasure.”

The look of comprehension was delicious, Greg thought, as it swept over Mycroft’s face. He was glad he’d thought to prep himself today – okay, he wanked hard and long with several toys in the hope of being able to concentrate – but the end result was the same. He was still relaxed. Loose enough to need only a little play before facing this rather large stimulator with a view to making Mycroft beg.

Mycroft’s eyes were wide, his cock shifting as he watched Greg consider the best way to do this. Mycroft’s cock had jumped again, and Greg watched as he cycled through classic signs of arousal – he swallowed, licked his lips, flexed his fingers. This was definitely working better than before. Mycroft was already far more restless than he had been.

Excellent.

Greg decided against stripping completely, merely undoing his belt and fly, dropping his trousers and kicking off the tangled fabric along with his pants and socks. Imagination was almost always hotter than reality. He added more lube to his fingers, making sure Mycroft could see them, narrating all the while in a low steady voice, fascinated at the visible deterioration in Mycroft’s control. Leaning against the side of the sofa he reached between his legs, the soft brush of his shirt against his forearm a delicious whisper.

“Oh, yeah…” he sighed as two fingers sank into his body with little resistance. “I spent most of today thinking about this, you know. Wondering if either of us would just abandon the bet and beg. Wouldn’t be the worst thing, to lose this bet. Not if it meant I could have you doing this instead.” Greg’s eyes had closed but he opened them now, dragging his gaze over to Mycroft as his fingers worked inside himself. Mycroft was staring, mouth ajar, breath ragged as he watched Greg.

Excellent.

“I’m going to sit on this huge dildo of yours,” Greg said, eyes locked on Mycroft’s. “I’m sure you know how it feels. Have you had it inside?” Mycroft nodded, eyes wider than Greg had seen them. This was definitely the right approach. “It’s pretty big. I have some big ones. None shaped like this one, though.” Greg leaned forward. “You must like the stretch, too. I bet this is gonna stretch me wide, isn’t it. There’ll be that moment when you’re not sure it’ll fit, and then it slips in all at once.” Greg hummed contentedly, his fingers still moving inside himself, eyes sharp as they watched Mycroft’s reactions to his carefully chosen words. Eyes, fingers, cock, Adam’s apple…all betrayed his arousal.

Swallowing hard, Greg continued his monologue.

“I’m bigger than this, of course. Would you like to see?” His shirt tails were still covering the details of his cock, and Mycroft’s eyes reflected his disappointment when the flicker downward revealed nothing.

“I’m sure you would. Hell, if you want to ask nicely I’ll even slick us both up and we can trade off, fuck each other into the sofa. Or a bed. I’d much rather have you inside me.”

Mycroft opened his mouth, but not a sound escaped him.

“Do you think you could find my prostate, Mycroft? Get me off as accurately as this guy is going to?”

Greg worked his fingers in a little further then decided he was ready. A bit of a burn was part of the enjoyment for him anyway, and Mycroft might not last much longer from the look of him. It was a close thing, between wanting to win and wanting to draw this out. The play of expression across Mycroft’s face was incredible to watch. It didn’t help that Mycroft’s whole body was reacting to his words, showing Greg exactly how much he was turning Mycroft on.

Greg didn’t wait for an answer, instead working a copious amount of lube up and down the toy. It was about the same size as his biggest toy – thick from top to bottom, like his own cock. This toy had several large bulbs along it, though. His mouth was practically watering – the bulbs would be a delicious addition, stretching his entrance just as he liked it. Putting the toy down for a moment, Greg looked over to one of the heavy wingchairs. He grinned at Mycroft, picking up a towel and draping it over the leather arm of the chair before he straddled it. It took a bit to get himself settled – one hand steadying himself on the back, one knee on the seat, one foot on the floor. Mycroft’s mouth was hanging open at this point, and Greg watched, mesmerised, as a drop of liquid eased along the length of Mycroft’s cock. He grinned, making sure he’d caught Mycroft’s eye before speaking.

“Mmmm, this isn’t bad right here,” he said, rutting a little against the rough towel. “But with this guy in me I’ll be able to rock on this bit.” He pointed at the handle which he was pretty sure was designed to put pressure on the perineum. He’d seen one before; the idea was to stimulate the prostate from inside and out at the same time. From the look on Mycroft’s face, he was quite aware of it. Greg tried not to think about Mycroft doing the exact thing he was – straddling something, filling himself up with this huge silicone cock and rocking back and forward…

“Okay,” Greg said, gripping the base of the dildo, “here we go.” He kept his eyes pinned to Mycroft as he reached under the hem of his shirt and guided the toy into place. Mycroft had a side on view, which was perfect; he’d be able to see a tease but nothing explicit. Imagination, again.

The first brush of silicone against his loose entrance made his breath catch, and Greg deliberately bit his lip, watching Mycroft’s gaze drop, lips parting. His thighs were already protesting as the slight crouch he was in; sitting down right now was not, obviously, an option. Soon though…

“Ooh, it’s big,” Greg said, hearing his voice growing hoarse. “Ohhh, the stretch…I can feel my body stretching around it…it’s so good, Mycroft, so wide…Christ,” Greg was babbling a little. He took a deep breath, groaning as it twisted a little, closing his eyes and enjoying the sensations for a moment. It really was a remarkable sensation. But this was about Mycroft…

“Wouldn’t you like to see it?”

As he spoke, Greg turned his head and opened his eyes. Mycroft nodded, closing his eyes momentarily as Greg started to turn towards him then stopped.

“I might just get the second bulb in first.” He wiggled the grip a little, allowing the press to show on his face as it moved inside him. Christ, it wasn’t symmetrical, he could feel the shape change as he twisted it. “Mmmm, that’s good. Okay here we go, another wide press, oooohhhh…” Greg allowed his head to fall back, groaning as he pushed it relentlessly into his body. His fingers were gripping hard on the chair, now, knuckles beginning to ache. The bulb felt far bigger than it had looked, and just as Greg wondered if he should pull back, the widest part slid forward, his body drawing the rest in, making him groan as the round head pressed even deeper into his body. He took a moment to adjust, panting hard, listening hard beyond his own breaths to Mycroft’s ragged breathing.

“Mycroft,” he said, drawing out the word low and as filthy as he could make it. “I want to show you.”

Mycroft’s eyes were huge, and Greg wondered how much longer the man could hold out. Greg could see his cock was dripping on the floor, a deep red that flushed right up his chest, which was heaving as he panted, watching Greg fuck himself with the huge dildo. His hands were clenched in fists by his side.

Slowly, Greg turned away from Mycroft, stopping so he could still see Mycroft easily over one shoulder. One hand held the toy in place as he stepped onto the floor with both feet, the other hand reaching to hold the opposite wing of the chair. His shirt tail still hid most of the view, and he saw Mycroft’s head dip as he strained to see what Greg had promised.

“Perhaps if I bend over a little more.” Greg suggested, easing his body forward, tilting his hips and letting go of the chair. His cock brushed the arm of the chair and he groaned at the touch of the rough towel. Taking a breath, Greg hiked up his shirt, and Mycroft’s ‘oh!’, followed by a long, low moan was the first noise Greg had heard him make.

“You like it?” Greg asked twisting the toy inside himself, watching Mycroft’s face over his shoulder. He pulled a little, feeling it stretch his entrance, knowing the skin would be pressed outwards as the bulb shifted. He pumped the toy as much as he could, slowly, giving Mycroft a show, watching what was surely the beginning of the end of Mycroft’s control.

“One more bulb,” Greg said. “I want this in me, Mycroft. All of it, all the way. Pressing on my prostate. Remember how that feels? I’d rather it was you, fucking me over this chair, but needs must.”

Mycroft whimpered.

“I’m glad I lubed it all the way to the bottom,” Greg said, pressing the toy further into his body. He felt full already, but Mycroft was so close to the edge, and to be honest he knew his prostate was just a little further inside. Greg twisted the slick toy as he pushed, feeling his body protest, allowing the gasps of arousal and twinges of pain to show on his face and in his voice. Finally, the muscle relented, allowing the large bulb inside. It immediately righted itself, the curved head pressing right on Greg’s prostate.

He moaned loudly. “Oh, Mycroft, this is incredible,” Greg gasped, rocking the toy in and out, pressing again and again right on his prostate, brutally accurate and firm. “Christ, I need one of these. Oh fuck, there’s no way I won’t be coming with this in me.”

He rocked again, then paused in genuine surprise as his thumb brushed something.

“Hey, I didn’t know there was a switch,” Greg murmured with a wicked grin. He raised his gaze to Mycroft’s face. Hooded eyes, mouth open, flushed cheeks.

Perfect.

“Mycroft,” Greg asked, his voice low without even trying, “does this vibrate, by any chance?”

Mycroft whimpered.

It was the most desperate noise he’d made since they’d begun, and it almost made Greg come on the spot. He was nodding frantically and Greg wondered if this was the moment he’d lose it.

“I could switch it on,” Greg said, voice as dark and thick as molasses, “or I could take this out and you could fuck me instead.”

He rocked the toy again, moaning Mycroft’s name.

“Please.”

The word was a whisper but Greg’s eyes snapped open. Mycroft’s hands were clenched tight, his eyes wide, cock still weeping all over the floor.

“Please,” he begged again, imploring Greg.

With a little care, but still probably not enough, Greg removed the toy, the emptiness uncomfortable but familiar. Turning, he stepped over to Mycroft with trembling hands and removed the cock ring, dropping it on the floor beside the abandoned lube bottle. Without breaking eye contact Greg filled Mycroft’s palm with the lube. Probably better if he do it himself. He could hear the wet slap of skin on slick skin as Mycroft spread the lube over his cock, then…nothing.

They panted into the same air for a long, anticipation filled moment, before Greg turned and bent over the arm of the chair once more, reaching for the opposite arm, presenting himself to Mycroft. When nothing happened, he looked over his shoulder, seeing the uncertainty mingling with arousal on the other man’s face.

“Please, Mycroft,” Greg whispered, and that was all he needed. With a groan, Mycroft stepped forwards, gripping Greg’s hip and driving into him without preamble. His cock felt huge, though Greg had no idea how it actually compared to the dildo in size; all that mattered was that it was _Mycroft_ , and it was far, far better than any silicone.

Greg shouted something, and was immediately catapulted into a world of pleasure, feeling Mycroft pound into him with no consideration, exactly as he wanted, fucking him as hard as Greg had told him to. His cock was rigid and slick and moving fast and hard. When Greg tiled his hips Mycroft started hitting his prostate, again and again and this time Greg let go. He was sobbing, gripping the sofa cushion as he begged Mycroft to go hard, to fuck him harder, faster, more. His own name was being called, loud and with abandon, and when Mycroft’s fingers convulsed on his hips at the same time as the fucking lost all sense of rhythm, Greg came.

It was like running into a wall. Every part of his body felt the slam as it radiated outward. Greg felt like he’d parted with his body to experience ecstasy, the intense joy of every molecule in his body quivering at once. He came and came, one hand reaching around to grip Mycroft, encouraging him to keep going, to pound Greg through his aftershocks. It wouldn’t have mattered, as it turned out; Mycroft’s own orgasm was crashing through him now, his body shaking hard. Greg held on, unable to relax his fingers as the sensation rocked his body.

Finally it subsided and they slid to the floor, Mycroft slipping out of Greg as they sat up against each other. With trembling fingers, Greg tugged the towel off the arm of the chair, tucking it under himself.

“Sorry ‘bout the mess,” Greg muttered, watching come ooze down the side of the chair.

“It’s leather,” Mycroft replied hoarsely. “It will clean.”

Several moments passed, only their gradually slowing breathing marking the passing of time.

“You probably don’t want to hear this,” Greg said finally, “but I forgot to start the timer.”

Mycroft looked at Greg for a long moment, and Greg wondered what he was thinking about.

“I was wondering,” Mycroft said quietly, “why you accepted this challenge in the first place.”

Greg blinked.

“Because I was proposing more than a one-time encounter,” Mycroft said, obviously uncomfortable with the bald statement. Greg could see the determination behind his uneasiness.

“Good,” Greg said, leaning in to kiss him. It was soothing and tender and the relief was palpable as it flowed through Mycroft. Greg realised this was the first time they’d kissed, which was quite astonishing given the way they’d filled the previous hour. He raised one hand, gently tracing the shape of Mycroft’s jaw, hoping the warmth in his veins was visible in his soft gaze. “Because next time it’s my turn, right gorgeous?”

“I believe the correct response is ‘Indeed.’”

Greg grinned. “Indeed.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you're interested, [this](https://www.amazon.com/Rocks-Off-Prostate-Stimulator-Black/dp/B003WVS1M8) is the basis for the stimulator Greg uses.


End file.
